


just let go

by clairelutra (exosolarmoon), noxfleuret



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Desperation, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, More Worldbuilding Than Should Happen In PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 14:47:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16243847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exosolarmoon/pseuds/clairelutra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxfleuret/pseuds/noxfleuret
Summary: Tenebrae royalty and Lucis royalty have vastly different customs surrounding how omegas in heat should be treated, and Luna's still dealing with the culture shock. What do you mean, "heats aren't supposed to suck balls"?





	just let go

**Author's Note:**

> kink meme prompt:  
>  **Noctis/Luna, ABO AU Luna in Heat**  
>  _AU where there's no prophecy and Luna and Noct just get married. Luna's very sweet and loving, but incredibly composed in all aspects of her life. Even when sleeping with Noct, she's never very loud or wild. Until her heat hits._
> 
> _Yeah. You know where this is going._
> 
> _Composure gone. She's begging Noct for his knot, bending over and showing herself off to him, rubbing herself suggestively in his presence, screaming loudly when he fucks her, and even climbing on top of him and riding him when she feels like he's taking too long. Noct's thrown for a loop but he's not exactly complaining..._
> 
> iiiiiii feel a little bad posting this and calling it a "fill", seeing as i only hit the two most general notes and implied the rest in the vaguest way possible, but, welp. it sure is something i spent a whole night on based off a kink meme prompt :D;;;
> 
> (also ayyyyy first real a/b/o heat!fic :D it was bound to happen at some point, and the point is now \o/)

The thing was, Luna had never once spent her heat around another person before, much less an alpha.

Partially because of her status as a princess and partially because of her status as Oracle, it just wasn't a done thing in Tenebrae. As free as her little country (not province, never province) was in all things love and romance, the princess and the Oracle was exempt.

Even Ravus couldn't see her mid-heat, despite being her brother and alpha. Had they been born in any other standing—in any other _country_ even—he would have sat with her, helped her nest, petted her hair the way he used to when her nightmares got bad.

At least, that was the fantasy she comforted herself with when her heat peaked, when even burying her face in Umbra's fur couldn't take the edge off and there was nothing to do but bear the misery through.

And then she'd married Noctis, and moved to Insomnia, and Insomnia had customs that were vastly different from Tenebrae's.

The look on Prompto's face when she'd told him she'd never spent a heat with anyone before was a little bit priceless.

"Wha— not even another _omega?"_ he'd asked, downright horrified. He was the only other omega in Noctis's pack, unbonded, and she couldn't help but wonder where _he'd_ gotten the company. "No one _at all?"_

She'd thought his distress was comical at the time, but now with Noctis obsessively uprooting the entire Citadel for every nesting material he could possibly bring her, Prompto and Ignis and the Amiticias finding excuses to give her hugs and shoulder bumps and head pats whenever they could, and the King fondly gifting her pointless pretty trinkets at every turn, she maybe got it a little bit.

Being cosseted like this was making her least favorite time of year downright _pleasant_.

And not even just in a 'getting nice things' kind of way—her stirring and unstable hormones were just making her want to purr, not whimper. She felt mellow and happy and almost aroused; a far cry from achy and shaking and painfully, terrifyingly weak. She hadn't thought feeling _safe_ would make so much of a difference.

That said, the full swing of it hit much faster and much _harder_ than it had in all her ten years of dealing with it.

Normally she spent about a week in general discomfort, followed by another truly miserable week locked in her room with a hand between her legs, followed by another week of discomfort as her body struggled to deal with the lack of true hormonal release, and then it was over.

Here, cared for and doted on with her bondmate's familiar scent in her nose near-constantly, she had about three days of getting progressively hazier and laxer, and then the full swing of it hit her like a runaway freight train.

Noctis was out when it started, so she had almost two hours alone of rubbing her clit, unable to find any meaningful release and listening to her own throat _chirp_ incessantly.

And here she'd thought that that was just a romance novel trope.

Suffice to say, she was half out of her mind by the time Noctis stepped through the door (with still _more_ blankets in hand, no less).

"Luna? Lun— mmph!"

Cold, he was too cold, but he smelled so _good_ —in a distant sort of way, she felt bad about smearing her slick on his clothes when she grabbed him, but he was _here_ and wearing far too _many_ clothes and— _and_ —

He was mumbling something into her mouth, soothing rumbles and purrs of words she couldn't make out, cool hands stroking her face and arms and gently helping her out of her dress (oh, she'd forgotten she was wearing that), settling the panic inside her until she was just clinging to him and mewling instead of trying to crawl into his skin.

Her nesting materials were all in disarray because she thought she'd have more time, but the bed would be good enough. Unromantic, messy, but she was familiar with spending heats in beds and at the moment he could take her on the bare marble floor and she just wouldn't care.

He broke the kiss murmuring her name, and a high, chirping, needy whine burst out of her throat in his wake. She felt slick and sick, everywhere he touched her almost _hurting_ in how _much_ it was, caught between heaven and hell with how much she needed him and how little she had of him.

She buried her nose in his neck, inhaling him on half-sobs and clutching at his clothing to support her trembling legs.

He smelled dark and cool like midnight snow, rich and refined like velvet and wine, warm and earthy like sunlit kisses and _adventure_ —it was the scent she went to bed with every night, but now it was transforming her shakes into a fever.

Strong, calloused hands slid around her back and under her thighs, leaving behind trails of fire and lifting her go gently and effortlessly that all she could do was go limp in his arms.

"Please, please, please, _Noctis,"_ she heard herself begging, "need, need you, Noctis—"

"I'm here, I'm here," he said as he set her down, his clothes and the bed and _everything_ too harsh, scratchy and painful and she needed needed needed—

He shucked his shirt, and that helped, skin-to-skin heating her raw nerves and his mouth on hers once again, soothing the panic back down.

She hooked her toes in his waistband, scrabbling at them in her desperate impatience, and he took that off for her too.

Which was all well and good, but that he didn't immediately follow it up by plunging into her was _unforgivable._ She barely noticed the cold air on her soaked sex as she wrapped her legs around his waist and struggled to get him where she wanted.

Frustratingly, she only really succeeded in having her heels slide off his backside, but setting her foot just above his knee and shoving it out from under him yielded much better results.

He fell on top of her groin-first with a yelp.

Somehow that _still_ didn't give her what she wanted—he wasn't fully hard yet. 

The noise she made had him all over her, kisses and apologies and _touch_ but it wasn't what she _need-need-need—_

Then he rolled his hips into hers, half-stiff member sliding through her folds and over her clit, and it was just close enough to what she'd been begging for that she could feel her bones just _melt_ , a high keen shuddering out of her throat.

He sunk teeth into her neck and did it again, then again, then again, getting a little stiffer with each pass and stroking little hiccuping noises out of her throat every time he rubbed her clit.

Ironically, being taken apart and lit on _fire_ was what gave her back the ability to string two words together.

"Noctis, Noctis, please, I-I need— kn-knot me knot me knot— _nngh!_ Please, need you, I need you, _please_ —"

 _"Shit,"_ he hissed into her clammy skin, then pulled back, caught the head of his cock in her slit, and _thrust_.

Luna's vision went white.

She might've screamed; she couldn't tell beyond the overwhelming sensation of it, the way the rush of finally having him _inside her_ turned every last ounce of discomfort into blinding pleasure, hit by the double-whammy of the tip of him sliding into her O-space.

It wasn't the first time he'd fucked her, not by a long shot, but here everything, _everything_ was multiplied hundred-fold—the stretch, the fullness, the friction and pressure both inside and out. How it felt to be truly _possessed_ by her bondmate in every sense of the word, filled to the brim and surrounded entirely, the thread between them pulled taut and _singing_ with every breath they shared.

He pulled back and plunged into her again, and that was just as good, if not even _better_ than the first, her vision pulsing white and something that was _definitely_ a scream ripping out of her throat.

He kept going, and her heat just wouldn't let her _adjust_ to it—each thrust felt fresher and rawer than the last, forcing half-scream after half-scream out of her throat until her lungs couldn't keep up with his speed, the waves of _sensation_ surging over her every nerve in time with the push-pull of his cock.

It had her coming hard, pushed up to and over the brink without any ceremony at all, desperately milking him for a knot he didn't seem to want to give her, and the longer he denied her, the more unbearable it got.

She could feel herself sob and beg, mouthing words she couldn't get any breath behind, his name over and over and over and over as he pounded her up against the knife's edge, tighter and tighter until—

He pumped the first swell of his knot through her just once, then buried it in her so deep it hit the back of her O-space and stopped there as she clenched shut around him.

One, two seconds for them both to lock to capacity, and Luna's entire world _shattered._

Noctis's release gushed into her at the dead center of her climax, hot seed burning her core and settling the _completion_ into every fiber of her being.

She floated there for a while, distantly aware of Noctis caressing her cheek, nuzzling kisses into the side of her face, then found the wherewithal to respond and reciprocate as she slowly came back down.

"Doing better?" he murmured between glancing kisses and careful touches.

If she'd had more than tiny splinters of coherence, then maybe she'd have told him that this was the best she'd ever been in her life, and how happy she was to be here with him, and how much she was looking forward to the family they were going to create, how much better her whole life was here with him...

Or maybe she wouldn't have, because that was terribly telling and saying things aloud—letting on how very, very much they meant to her—had always seemed like the easiest way to lose them.

But tiny splinters were all she had, so she just sighed happily and chased his mouth for a real kiss.

* * *

Her heat didn't get any less brutal over the next three days, and it took until the third knot for her to give up on decorum and shame and all those pesky little things that might keep her bondmate from fucking her senseless when she needed it most—read: at any given moment.

And then she woke up on the fourth day with a clear head, covered in lovemarks, almost certainly carrying the next in the royal line of Lucis, and the memories of the past few days came rushing back.

Noctis woke up while she was still trying to process them.

A touch on her cheek got her to look at him, and the caution mingled in with affection and amusement brought back _another_ slew of memories and—

 _...her bare backside in the air as she begged, unprompted, for him in all sorts of explicit ways; trying to mark him with her mouth in every way she could and snapping at him when he tried to stop her; trying to entice him back to bed in ways only the heat-drunk_ would; _crawling into his lap when he took too long with his food..._

Oh Six, had she _really_ —

He took one look at the horror and mortification on her face and burst into his quiet laughter.

Luna wanted to _die_.

"I-I'm not— Please, Noctis—" She couldn't figure out how to beg him to tell her it had all been a dream when there were reams of evidence to the contrary. "I do not... normally... I _am_ not normally— D-did that truly— Did _I_ do... _that?"_

The hand that had touched her cheek drew her down for a kiss, then Noctis rolled her under him, using his weight as a silent instruction to stop talking and stop panicking.

It worked, more or less, and then she saw the sly grin he was giving her.

"Never knew you had it in you, Luna."

Immediately, she started squirming out from under him, half in pointed protest and half in actual desire to run from her _mistakes_ and never look back.

She did, however, allow herself to be caught for another kiss, after which he let her go without complaint.

"...Hey, Luna?"

Halfway to their bathroom, Luna paused and looked back.

Noctis was watching her in faint worry. "Did it... go okay? Feel okay, I mean."

She cocked her head, and he rubbed the back of his.

"I just, uh. Remember that you really hate being, well." He waved a hand, not looking directly at her. "That you don't like heats. Like, ever."

She _had_ told him that once upon a time, hadn't she? Back when she was dealing with her very first few.

"This was..." She couldn't say 'her best heat yet' because the bar was so low, and she couldn't say 'good' because she still wanted to die, but... "the best I've felt in a long time. Possibly... Possibly ever." It took more courage than she expected to look back and smile at him. "Thank you."

He met her eye and went all melty-soft the way he just did sometimes for her—his bondmate, his wife, his lover. "Of course."

The 'always' was just a given, and mortification aside, she found that the idea that her heat would come again had lost its poison.

"Thank you," she said again, for the unsaid assurance this time, and went to run a much-needed bath.


End file.
